To Be A King
by Dolli
Summary: Know the man that he was and empathize with the King he became behind the mask. This is the legacy that he leaves, those he loved, those he loathed and above all, those who shaped his destiny as the King of Jerusalem. “Remember me as I was…”
1. Plunderers

**TO BE A KING**

**Summary:** King Baldwin IV c.1161-1185 is the son of Amalric I of Jerusalem. He is also known as Baldwin the Leper. He came to throne at the tender age of thirteen in 1174 and his reign ended with his death in 1185. His life was short but remarkable and he achieved much during his reign and spent most of it in constant fight until a truce in 1180 that unfortunately lasted only two short years. He showed signs of leprosy at the age of nine but nothing came of it until 1183 when it suddenly spread.

I found his story to be touching and this is my take on the doomed but moral King.

Know man that he was and empathize with the King he became behind the mask. This is the legacy that he leaves; those he loved, those he loathed and above all, those who shaped his destiny as the King of Jerusalem. "Remember me as I was…"

**Disclaimer for the whole story:** All the movie characters/characterization of historical figures/events you recognize do not belong to me. This story is a mixture of history, the movie and my own imagination. None of it should be taken as fact.

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PLUNDERERS 

King Baldwin IV, the son and successor of Amalric I of Jerusalem rode proudly with his comrades, Tiberias, Hospitaler, Guy de Lusignan, Reynald de Chatillon, Godfrey of Ibelin. They were his friends, his knights, his _Crusaders_.

The Knights were in high spirits for their King rode side by side with them but it soon came to an abrupt end when they reached a small village that lay on the border of a stretch of land newly acquired by Guy de Lusignan. Commotion stirred like a tornado throwing peace into a violent rage.

"Thieves. Plunderers on the weak and unprotected. " Tiberias observed with open disgust. His war-trained horse grunted roughly pulling tight on the reigns. With a practiced tug he stilled the beast and looked to the young King.

Expression hardened, Baldwin watched from their distance atop the valley entrance. He could see children running, the old hiding and precious few fighting. A man hindered by a braced leg fought bravely, a woman held a torch defending her home and a girl swinging a long field tool like a spear. She swung again and hit a man down before throwing her makeshift weapon and diving to the floor-

Down below, Alexis darted for the dropped sword but soon realized that she could barely lift the weapon let alone use it to ward off harm. She dropped the heavy hilt back into the mud and scrambled to the house. Inside, she flew into the kitchen tripping on overturned furniture as she went but she got what she wanted and her hand closed on the worn handle of a meat knife. Its familiar shape was smaller, sharper and much more useful than the heavy sword and the field hoe she had welded earlier.

Exiting immediately Alexia dove straight into the chaotic resistance before her courage could fail her. She threw her self against a heavily bearded man who was clawing at a girl barely past the age of twelve. Taken by surprise he lost his footing and rolled over into a waste ditch whilst the girl got up and fled.

Alexia barely spared the escaping girl a glance and whipped her small blade around clearly intending to use it. "Leave us be!" She shouted brandishing her diminutive weapon in a white knuckled grip. "You call yourselves men! Neanderthals!"

"Wench!" The fallen brute roared. His thick fingers tightened into a solid fist as he climbed out of the ditch. The young maiden swallowed hard. The sight of her disgusting adversary was enough to send bolts of fear to the very pits of her stomach and she whispered a heartfelt prayer that her end may be quick.

They were outnumbered and out-skilled but Alexia would not give up, not yet. The longer she fought the longer the others had to escape, if this be her life's only purpose then she shall serve it. With a war cry of her own she launched at the grisly opponent knife first with nothing but desperation to give her strength-

Above the valley both men and horses moved restlessly. "The problem will resolve itself. We have just claimed the land, it is inevitable that there will be unrest among its people." Guy de Lusignan dismissed. With a careless shrug he pulled his right reign and pressed his calves into the side of his horse ready to turn around.

Reynald nodded with agreement although he loathed to leave a bloodshed without tasting a single scream or savoring a single drop of blood. "We have no time to be Saints, there is a war that calls to us." He said with unsettling glee to their forthcoming battle. Their presence at the battlefront was called for and they were but three days travel to the destination. What was this village but a trickle compared to a river?

Virtuous by nature the King could not agree nor accept either of his Knights' casual willingness to ignore what they had seen, he held is hand up to stop Guy leaving. "This is more than unrest. I cannot have this barbaric act to happen on _my_ land." He said with meaning. This land may belong to Guy but this _Kingdom_ was under _his_ command. Guy would be a fool to miss the intended undertone.

The King detected a slight twitch in the eyes of his Templar Knight but after a heart beat the older man lowered his head. "As you wish, My Lord." He replied submissively but Baldwin knew that such a man complied with no one, not even his King.

"What is it that we fight for if not to protect the weak? The people here are defenseless." Baldwin added addressing everyone though his gaze often fell back onto Guy who by now sat carefully neutral. "Those men have no Honor but _we _do!" He spurred his horse and charged downward with his sword drawn. Even without hearing the pounding of hooves and united cry of his Crusaders he knew that they would follow him without a second thought. These Knights followed loyalty and their loyalty rode the same horse as the King…but of course there are always exceptions…

Alexia slammed her foot onto the brute's shin but instead falling back he seized her in a bone-crushing grip-

"Whore of a dog!" he swore and a thick-fleshed hand slammed into the side of her face sending her reeling. Disorientated, Alexia found herself hung up by the arm like a rag doll choking on her own blood from her cut mouth-

-Instinctively curling she braced herself for a second blow-

-All of a sudden, the attack stopped and everyone turned at the thunderous sound of charging horses. In confusion Alexia thought that this was surely her end.

"Run!" She spluttered, spitting out blood as she did. What she wanted to do was scream at the remaining villagers to leave.

"CRUSADERS!" The barbarian shouted with fear that rivaled hers and he began to run lugging her with him. Backwards he peddled fearful of taking his eyes off the approaching warriors but wanting to get away. A rider rode swift and menacingly closer until he whipped past the back peddling man and raised his arm and sword. The horse galloped past them at a thundering speed that stole Alexia's breath away.

The brute's body simply crumpled and his dead weight dragged her with him. On top of the dirt she lay unable to understand what she was seeing. His dirty face locked in an open mouth shock along with his coppery hair lay a good few feet away from the body that held her prison. The ground was rapidly getting wet; the parched soil drinking up the fountain of blood that gushed from his opened arteries. Likewise her ragged dress began to soak red before she came to her senses to scream.

Screams erupted around her, joining her in a cacophony of fear as the slaughter began.

Baldwin turned his horse evenly around flexing his sword arm ready to lope the head off the next savage. It angered him to see such heinous attacks on villagers, innocents. His men arrived within seconds and he watched as Godfrey calmly swung his sword and beheaded a savage in the manner that he had just done and to his surprise it shocked him. In God's eyes they were all equal, what right did he and his men bring death to another even if it was in the name of justice? Mercilessly murdering murderers made them no different.

Screams were rising and a particularly piercing one cut through it all reminding him that their presence had made no difference to the violence he'd witnessed at the top of the hill. "I want them alive!" he bellowed over the chaos. "Catch and bind them!" he ordered. His men obeyed wordlessly with only Reynald displaying disapproval before reluctantly following orders. The savages took their now reserved attempts to capture as a weakness and the braver few dared to attack back.

However, the upper hand lay with the Crusaders; they were men of War, whether by choice or not because they lived in the Age of War, they breathed it, drank it and bleed their lives for it. The ferocity that commanded the Crusaders made the savages seemed all but petty. Easily driven into wild packs the ragged savages pleaded for their lives one by one.

Accustomed to men crying and begging for their lives Baldwin left Godfrey in charge while he guided his horse among the ruined village. Heaviness weighed on his heart. To protect his People his Kingdom was awash with blood. It seemed that in his past month of travels all he saw was blood, it stained the soil, the people, his hands and even his soul. With disgust he peeled off his gloves and dropped them to the ground. The coppery smell continued to cling to his heavy mail and it stung his nostrils as a stench like no other.

His horse grunted alerting him to the presence of people. What met his eyes sent a chill down his spine. Swaying like a wraith wrapped in the devil's cloak an apparition appeared not fifteen feet from him. He blinked hard and for a second he saw an angel though not one that he would welcome for it was covered in the fluid of life that he abhorred so.

Catching sight of him she stood abruptly, her hands spread out wide as if to protect the small huddle of children behind her.

_Human._ He thought with some relief. A girl and nothing more. With a nudge his horse brought him forward until he came to a stop in front of the group.

On his mount he towered over the girl but she held her ground. Her expression despite her swollen face startled him somewhat. As a boy he used to go on hunting expeditions with his Father, wolf hunting was the high sport of the time. Once he'd come across a vicious wolf, a mother defending her cubs. It was not so much as her stance that struck familiarity, for how could a wolf resemble a human? It was the same air of fierce protective defiance that he recognized.

Wanting to show that he meant no harm he dismounted though it seemed he still towered over her for he stood more than a head taller. The angle of her chin changed but a little and her misgivings towards him altered none at all.

"I mean no harm." He offered although he could see that his words did nothing to lessen the fear in their eyes. He removed his headgear and let it drop to the ground. The heavy metal fell with a thud and the group collectively jumped.

"My apol-"

"Run!" she shouted before he could finish his apology and with scared squeals the small group disbanded.

"Hey! I said I mean no harm!" Baldwin called after them and automatically caught the girl by the arm. She let out a high-pitched yelp and tried to pull away. "Listen to me!" He had half mind to just let her go but she was pulling too hard and if he released her she would fall. Her blood soaked clothes squelched uncomfortably under his grip.

"Let me go!" She screamed-

-And he did-

With another small shriek she fell to the floor as he'd predicted. Baldwin took two strides and he was pulling her to her feet.

"Now, if you've finished with your screaming fit I would like you to listen."

Alexia blinked, her eyes wide and pupils dilated with fear. He, another brute or whatever he was, was talking to her in firm hushed undertones. Her wrist was once more imprisoned and any attempt of loosening his iron grip was swatted away.

"Go away. Please…just leave us be." She half sobbed. If possible, his strikingly green eyes darkened at her plea and her heart sank at what was recognizably anger.

"What do you take me for?" He demanded as if highly insulted. "Surely you do not believe that I am one of those barbarians?" Alexia looked away her answer as clear as a winter crisp morn.

Baldwin sat back on his heels. These people could not tell friend from foe but then how could he blame them. The enemy took life as did they, what was it that made them different?

Alexia couldn't help but cower as far from him as her imprisoned arm allowed. Even with her face hidden behind a curtain of her hair she could feel his piercing stare probe her for an answer. Slowly, she became away of his fingers relaxing and when she tentatively pulled her hand back, he did not stop her.

Baldwin watched still crouched while the girl shuffled on the floor to put some distance between them. "You are letting me go?" she asked uncertainly in way that almost made it a statement. He nodded. "Why?" Alexia automatically bit her lip and scolded herself mentally. How stupid for a prisoner to question given freedom!

The man seemed to be following the same trail of thoughts because he let out a throaty chuckle. "Why not?" He returned adding to her confusion.

"Are you a Lord?"

Baldwin did not answer immediately because Hospitaler and Guy came striding towards them, their armor announcing their arrival loudly. "In a manner, yes." He replied.

"Insolent slave!" Guy boomed startling the girl. "How dare you speak to-"

"That will be enough." The King cut firmly. "There is no need to cause any further unnecessary alarm."

"Don't be so harsh, Guy. The poor girl is scared out of her wits." Hospitaler soothed although her attention remain fixed upon the most threatening out of the trio. "And who wouldn't be when confronted with a face that only a Mother could love." He added under his breath for Baldwin and the girl to overhear. He finished it with a conspiratorial wink that elicited a smile from the King and bewilderment from the girl.

In truth, Guy de Lusignan was not an ugly man but then neither was he fair. Like the other Knights he was tall and broad shouldered enough to command a stern presence. His face was neither remarkable nor handsome; but a forceful nature, fortune and a preceded reputation ensured that he never spent too many nights alone when surrounded in the creature comforts of civilization.

The King, on the other hand possessed a face that appealed to most. Graceful yet strong were his facial appearance, with a straight nose that divulged his nature and a mouth that yielded easily to smiles and laughter. But perhaps his most winning feature was his eyes; blessed by a shade of deep forest green they could darken just as easily as they could lighten. Not only a beauty to behold, they were the greatest tool a man could ever have; eyes that spoke without words. Though the King was less adept at wielding them as his sister, Sibyilla who, by the age of thirteen had already mastered the art of using them to bend every will to her own.

Had Baldwin not born into Royalty he might have been a poet, a writer or a traveler across the seas with many tales to tell for he had an active mind with plenty of curiosity at hand. Unfortunately in life, few had the luxury of making their own choices. Even as a child he was different from others because he was a Prince and heir to the throne. Wild daydreams were interrupted by sword training; imaginary games dashed by politics and even dreams for a normal life were destroyed by war.

Still, the young King understood that his path was set at birth although how he was to walk it was entirely his own to decide. Baldwin chose to walk it for his people.

"Do not be afraid. I promise that for as long as I stand no harm shall ever come to your village or this land ever again." It was a valiant promise and together with his regal appearance it swayed many hearts and stirred faith but in Alexia the effect was lost. He could see that she was not convinced but then neither did he care to convince her. Words would only ever take a man so far; actions always took him further.

"Excuse me, My Lord." She bowed her head courteously acknowledging his importance over hers. "But I must find the children, they are lost lambs without their shepherd." He nodded to give her permission to leave but she was already well on her way.

"An ungrateful peasant girl." Guy noted with distaste.

"I think she has character!" Hospitaler said with mirth.

Alexia hurried off uneasily. Soon, with the remainder of the peoples from the sad village gathered they shared thought and exchanged grateful prayers that they were still alive. That done, all that there was left to do was wait. Alexia expected these men, the Crusaders to leave as soon as possible. The rich did not like to spend time in villages as ravaged as this. To her dismay they stayed and by nightfall half a dozen horse pulled carriages arrived. It appeared that they intended to stay but for how long and for what purpose she could not guess…

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**A/N:** I'm thinking about changing the rating for this fanfic, undecided for now. I'm a bit iffy about this chapter because it kinda of dives right in but we'll see how this turns out. x


	2. Perfect Flaws

**A/N:** Thank you SweetAK for reviewing and to all who've taken time to read this fic.

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PERFECT FLAWS 

Tiberias stabbed a dagger into the table, pinning the map beneath its point. "Swine!" He cursed. "They'll have us surrounded by day break."

Godfrey peered hard at the map noting how the land dipped into a bowl; most disadvantageous from a battle strategist's point of view. The enemy need only circle the hills and they would be trapped. "Are the servants sure that this is what they saw? One hundred or more men, kin of the savages marching towards this very valley?" A band of men the Crusaders could easily overcome, but six against one hundred was impossible even for the bravest and strongest.

"As sure as the Devil's horns!"

"Were they spotted?" Godfrey asked urgently hoping that the servants had escaped notice. The men may be marching but that did not mean that they knew of what passed in the village; not knowing that their kin were captured meant that they might be on their merry way to enjoy the spoils, which gave the Crusaders the element of surprise.

"Marietta swears upon her life that the savages were oblivious to their presence."

"Hmm…" The name struck familiar with Hospitaler. "The cook?"

"Aye, that's the woman. Though I do not understand why we men of war have a cook but not a decent archer." Tiberias growled. A well-seasoned fighter such as he believed in living with only what was needed, Guy's extravagant attitude and lifestyle even when going to war clashed against his nerves more than once.

"I have a decent arm but good eye on that cook or we would have all been gutted in our sleep!" Hospitaler noted. "See to it that she gets rewarded accordingly when we get back." A guard who also stood at hand as a scribe nodded and scribbled furiously with a bit of charcoal on crude paper.

"_If_, we get back! We will be outnumbered by far of at least one hundred! What joke is this? Knights underestimating a bunch of savages!" Tiberias raged.

"A funny one indeed because it is the truth." Hospitaler replied whom fully believed in having a good laugh even if it was at the expense of himself. "But do watch my pride my dear friend; there is at least one hundred of them, and that is much more than a mere 'bunch'. It would sound better in tavern tales anyhow." This was the way, a man such as Hospitaler always saw ways to make fun of the serious such as Tiberias which left Godfrey to act as the peace maker.

He waved a placating hand. "Now, now. Peace be. The odds are against us but it is more important to ponder over what we should do."

Tiberias, ever the Marshal began to assess their status straight away. "We are six Knights, we have a dozen servants that can wield nothing other than field tools and cooking utensils. Had this village any able bodied warriors we need not have intervened today."

"There are a bunch of young lads." Hospitaler reminded. "But a few youths who have trouble growing beards can hardly constitute as a formidable army. The savages would be quaking in their boots-with laughter."

Godfrey thought a while. "Then this leaves us no choice but to evacuate."

"We're leaving!" Tiberias could not believe his own ears yet this words he heard! From the very mouth of Godfrey of Ibelin! The Baron of the King's Court! "Surely we cannot run away like dogs with their tails tucked between our legs!"

Godfrey was known as The Brave among his comrades, and true to his name he never stepped down from challenges but neither was his foolhardy or stupid. "There is no shame in using strategy my friend, remember that our disadvantages are great and we have the King. What is more important? Our pride or our King?"

Tiberias slumped visibly but he could not deny the logic that Godfrey presented. He would die for the King. "But what chance have we of escaping before they arrive. We'll have the villagers to take. If we leave them then we leave them to their deaths."

"Now that is when our prisoners become useful."

"We're taking them too?"

"By Heavens! Of course we do, if need be we'll use them to barter!" Hospitaler explained. "Dear Godfrey, where would we be without your quick thinking?"

"At least we wouldn't be haggling with the savages like old women in a market." Tiberias grumbled. The other two laughed good naturedly knowing well that he did not mean any harm. Tiberias was a fighter first and foremost, they used to joke that he was born with a sword in his hand and a scar beneath his eye.

"We must alert the others at once, but we must not let the villagers know. They are unaccustomed to such matters and fear does no one any favors." Godfrey said, setting things to action.

"Then what excuse have we for gathering some thirty odd villagers and taking them with us?"

"Leave that to Guy, he is good with such matters. Speaking of which, where is he?"

"Hiding in some maiden's bed likely." Hospitaler joked. "Nay, I think he was making arrangements for the King."

On the other side of the small village Guy de Lusignan was indeed making arrangements for the King although the nature of it was not to everyone's tastes and least of all, the King's.

"The Lord has a skin condition." Guy said. Alexia bowed her head to her new Master. He had made it clear as soon as possible that he was the new Lord of the land thus she was his subject. "It is a tender situation and we wish that his condition remains unknown to all. Speak of it and you will never speak again." She bowed lower and he left.

Alexia released a breath of air that she had been holding. It was not her place to choose her chore but she was grateful that she now had an expectation of what she will see. Her father was the doctor of the village and with his passing she took up his role although as a woman, she could never be a doctor. With a resigned sigh she knocked and entered the room.

"My Lord." She said announcing her presence. The Lord who had his eyes closed and head leaning against the side of the large wooden bath started. He automatically dipped his body lower into the water so that she would not see the telltale skin on his torso but he had been too late. He could see her eyes slide down and spot the red skin.

Baldwin was steeled against a reaction; revulsion, pity, disgust…he had seen it all and had learned to expect it from those around him even from his Mother. He would turn his back to her but in doing so would reveal his back and he did not want her to see that.

"You may leave. I am not accustomed to have servants present while I bathe." He said evenly. He did not look away nor did he meet her gaze. Her expression was unreadable, plain and neutral. She bowed her head but instead of leaving she approached the bath and picked up a washcloth.

Baldwin frowned. "Did you not hear me? You may leave."

"I have been ordered to tend to your skin, My Lord." She answered.

"And I have ordered you to leave." He said tersely. He had no doubts of who had sent her. Guy was always sending him gifts and women whenever he wasn't busy being petulant. Wary of not exchanging his good will for either Baldwin always declined.

"My Master is Guy de Lusignan." She said as a way of telling him that she did not have to listen to his commands.

Baldwin could not help but laugh, had she known that he was King there would have been no doubt over whose orders held precedence. "I will explain to your Master. You may leave."

"These lesions need tending to." She dipped the cloth into the hot water and held it out. Baldwin flinched back before she could touch him.

"That is none of your concern!" He splashed away to the other side of the deep bath; water swirled and flowed over onto the stone floor. Alexia ignored it and walked around and reached out again.

"Leave!" Baldwin commanded in alarm.

"Why?"

It was not in Baldwin's nature to anger easily and what upset she had caused ebbed away at her simple question. It was undemanding yet it seeked for a reason. "You need not subject yourself to this. I do not need help. Skin irritation is a thing I have gotten used to." He added woodenly.

His remark elicited a response at last and she raised an eyebrow. "Skin irritation?" She asked, not believing that the Lord was so naïve to his condition at all.

"Yes, irritation." He said with a maddening patience.

Ignoring his earlier protest Alexia pressed the moist cloth to his skin. After a moment of indecision Baldwin allowed her; soon she would tire and leave with disgust. "This skin irritation," She started carefully. "There are two types My Lord: in the first type lesions appear as yellow or brown protuberances that affect the mucous membranes of the eyes, nose and throat. There is a general thickening of the skin, especially the face and ears. In the second type skin lesions appear as light red and purplish spots." She brushed her hand across a small section of affected skin that he had not wanted her to see earlier. Scooping some water on to it she rubbed it soothingly. Baldwin's spine stiffened.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"This will soothe the irritation My Lord." She answered and continued. Although she did not share the disgust that many others had, she did share the pity. The man in front of her was young, still boyish and brimming with youth. His skin was healthy, smooth apart from a few notable scars and the only signs of leprosy were patches of red spotted skin the size of her palm. Two patches to be exact: one on his back behind his shoulder blade and the other sitting on his stomach muscles. Unnoticed and easily dismissed to the untrained eye. "You suffer from the latter type My Lord. It is still benign as of now."

"Are you not afraid?" He asked with a quiet wonder at her disregard. Few servants dared to speak against him and fewer people yet dared to touch him once they knew that he had signs of leprosy.

"No." She said and no more words were exchanged between them. Alexia tended to him as she would a patient and soon his head began to loll to the side and she gently woke him up. With a start he realized that he'd been in water for a long while and it was beginning to get cold. He took the towel that Alexia offered to him and she turned her back to offer him privacy.

"Thank you. That is all now." With a brief curtsy she left, untucking her rolled sleeves as she did. "One more thing." He added as soon as she reached the door.

"Yes, My Lord?"

"Do not pity me."

She blinked. "I don't, My Lord."

His brow rose. "I find that hard to believe." From experience he knew that a perfectly healthy person could never help but pity someone less fortunate than himself or herself.

"We are each designated a role in life and what is given we accept. Why should I pity you or indeed anyone else if we are given what we are supposed to receive?" With that she curtseyed again and left him to dress.

Baldwin wiped hair away from his eyes with a dripping hand. He didn't quite know what to think of what he'd just heard. She had either just mocked him; openly told him that she thought he got what he deserved or she'd just exemplified a great faith and acceptance that was beyond his measure. He shivered and sneezed, thinking too deeply or standing there getting cold wasn't about to help him so he quickly dried off.

By the time he was dressed he could hear voices in the main cabin. As he approached he recognized the lilting voice of the peasant girl and Guy among others.

"The men of this village have long left to war. It is to be expected with the proximity our home lies to the front. We have nothing more too offer." She was saying. "How can you now ask to take more people yet?"

Hospitaler dropped his head into his hands. Trust Guy to take matters into his own hands and make it worse, he'd bet his horse that this was not what Godfrey had intended when proposing Guy to make the necessary arrangements.

Guy was not used to being spoken to in such a manner and he was ready to draw his sword. "Hold your tongue slave!"

To everyone's surprise, Marietta the cook stepped in and went as far as waving a finger under the girl's nose. "Oh hush!" She directed to her before bowing deeply to Guy. "My apologies, My Lord. She is just a village girl and knows not her place. Let me have my word with her." And without further ado she whisked her out leaving the Lord narrowed eyed.

"Have to love that cook." Hospitaler said with admiration and blissfully unaware of his fellow Knight bristling. "Were I few years older I would have thought that I was in love with her courage."

Baldwin watched as Guy sent one last venomous look at the door before straightening his tunic and spoke as if nothing had passed. "This land is mine as are the people. I take whatever and whoever I please." Guy announced before facing Reynald. "Hand pick whom you will."

"The village is pitiful, there are not many to choose from." Reynald commented with distaste. "Nothing but the old, young and weak left."

"Then take whatever you can."

"But there are not many left."

"Enough for us."

"That is plundering." Hospitaler could not help but point out. "Godfrey meant for us to take them all."

"Plundering? How so when everything on this stretch of land belongs to me?"

"Still plundering, unless we take them _all_." He insisted. "We cannot take the one you deem are best and leave the rest."

"What use have we for them all? They will do nothing but slow us down."

"What is this? What are we taking exactly?" Baldwin asked stepping in and surveyed the remaining trio.

"Ah, your Highness." Hospitaler greeted. "You see, we have a bit of a problem." Animated, Hospitaler quickly recalled all that Marietta had seen and the decision Godfrey, Tiberias and himself had come to.

Baldwin listened intently but before Hospitaler could finish he was already strapping his sword to his side. "Gather everyone, I want every last person in this village to be out hours before daybreak. Move!"

Outside, Alexia pulled away from the middle aged woman. "I appreciate what you are trying to do but you don't understand! They cannot take any more! Who would they take? The boys or the aged men? They are not suited for war!"

Marietta offered a silent pray for her own husband had left for war many years ago. "Few people are." She said placing a hand on the girl's shoulder. "Don't be worrying yourself. Leave it to the King, he will know what is best."

"But I cannot just allow them to- The _King_?" Alexia swallowed hard, one of those men was the King! Ruler of the Kingdom. But who? With a thudding heart she realized that she already knew. The King was a leper… no wonder her life would be forfeit if she let out such a secret!

"Hush! Now listen to me, get running home and get your things. And don't be getting under Lord Guy de Lusignan's feet if you value your life. Hurry!"

Alexia took a few steps but then stopped. "Is something going to happen?" she whispered, fearful all of a sudden. Marietta could not answer because the door swung open without warning and the Crusaders filed out with grim purpose set upon their faces.

"Girl! Gather the villagers, you all leave now." Guy roared. He looked murderous and Alexia eagerly obliged and scampered away. Stealing a torch from someone's front garden she began to call and with scarce numbers the whole village was assembled within minutes.

They huddled together trying to find comfort among themselves.

"What will become for us?"

"Dear Lord, I pray to thee..."

"Mercy on us!"

Alexia stood in the center of it all, eerily calm. Marietta had conveyed a sense of urgency that she did not understand but had enough sense to do as told. She distrusted the Crusaders as all locals did with outsiders but what choice did she have but to believe in them? She could hear the assortment of prayers and scared whispers around her causing her own fear to grow but with steadfast conviction she clung to her hope that all will be fine.

"Whatever happened to not alarming the villagers?" Hospitaler observed as he mounted his horse. "I've never seen a bunch of more terrified people in my life!"

Baldwin rode his horse. "Are they all here?" he shouted over the confused mutter but no one replied. The Crusaders exchanged looks; they did not know for certain how many villagers there were supposed to be.

"Do not fret, Your Highness. I do not think we need worry. Godfrey's plan is _perfect_." Reynald said, slurring slightly on the word 'perfect'. He smiled nastily and then spat onto the ground. "I wouldn't have thought that the savages would expect _Knights_ to run in fear of them." It disgusted him, dishonored his sword and wounded his pride greatly to be meeting a battle in this fashion.

"Do _you_ fear them?" Baldwin demanded all of a sudden, taking Reynald by surprise.

"By my honor I will slay every one of them. Fear is something I do not have." He said slamming a fist over his heart.

Baldwin's horse whinnied and shuffled impatiently. "I _do._" He confessed. "In the eyes of these people I can see fear, I can _feel_ it. I have a sword and I can fight but what do they have? I fear _for them_!"

"As do I." Godfrey unsheathed his sword. "Which is why we must make haste, daybreak is soon and we want to be far from here before the sun rises from the water's edge."

Wordlessly the Knights rounded the people together and at an excruciatingly slow pace they began their escape.

"Hurry." Marietta urged the horse pulling her wagon. The usual clanging of pots and pans hanging from it was missing and the loss of that familiar sound unnerved her but removing had been a necessity, there was no point making a quiet escape if they announced themselves with a band of pots! "Girl, hurry the children along!" she whispered as loud as she dared to Alexia who walked beside the wagon. "Do not let them lag-"

"Look a falling star!" A boy resembling a street urchin called loudly surprising everyone. He pointed. Marietta's mouth dropped.

"That be no falling star!" She yelled and threw herself off the moving wagon as a globe of light slammed down from above and imbedded into the seat she had occupied a second before. The flammable stuffing burst alight immediately.

Chaos broke out while the flames quickly consumed the rough wood in hungry licks. Alexia found herself thrown back and pushed aside as screams erupted. Hundreds of lit arrows plummeted from the skies in an angry rain. The carriage horses went wild, becoming uncontrollable they followed their first instincts…to run. Blindly they reared and then shot forward regardless of the wagon it pulled and the people it crushed. The six wagon horses' stampede was over in seconds but the attack wasn't-

A chilling war cry echoed through the inky night-

"Fall back! Fall back!" Someone was shouting distantly.

_An ambush!_ Baldwin could feel the muscles of his stallion twitch beneath him but the beast was well trained and it did not bolt. With a shield held above his head he drew his sword. Once this fire volley ended the real attack would begin-

---


	3. Honour's Worth

HONOUR'S WORTH 

"CHAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGE!" Battle cries sounded from both sides of the dirt path and from beyond the darkness of the surrounding woods.

Baldwin flexed his right arm, bracing his sword; with his left he held a shield and controlled the reigns tightly. Before they had traveled moonlight, allowing her sickly glow to guide their path but now all the atrocities that lay in front of him was lit cruelly by the two remaining burning broken wagons.

The undergrowth around them sprung to life in a violent explosion with frightful suddenness. Darkened shapes of men sporting mud painted skin leapt out among the villagers cutting each down one at a time. To his horror Baldwin realized that they held not swords but scythes! Field tools sharpened to a keen edge chopped and hacked with terrifying ease.

One by one, heads disappeared from his view without so much as a warning and the cries of pain filled the heavily charged air. The King let out a sharp sound of anguish. Instead of leading the villagers to safety he had unwittingly fed them straight into a slaughter.

With vehement anger for his grave mistake the King stormed into the melee. With no remorse he pinpointed every mud-covered shadow. With precision he identified them by the swinging glint of the scythe and cut them to the ground. Likewise his Crusaders fought with a passion of their own but skilled as they were, no battle could be won when the people whom they sought to protect fell beside the bodies of those they fought.

Baldwin would fight till dawn and beyond till every last ravager lay dead if only it could save the people.

_If only…_

It was one wistful thought and maybe even a prayer though he knew it would not be answered. Many of the villagers lay dead at his feet and no amount of bloodshed could ever bring them back.

_I promise that for as long as I stand no harm shall ever come to your village or this land ever again. _

How empty his promise sounded now. How stupid, how boastful…how _contrived_? That peasant had every right to be scornful. Distractedly he wondered where she was now; did she too lie among the gathering bed of the dead beneath his feet? Another nameless face to die under the hands of the King.

He could not let this battle go on but at what price would it take to stop? His life? The lives of his Crusaders? If it were simply his own he would gladly surrender but what of the rest? The Crusaders, men who fought for their country deserved deaths of honors and honor was nowhere to be found on this dark night. In the eyes of his mind he weighed the two hands. He and the Crusaders could escape by abandoning the area but what of the people?

Many questions plagued his mind yet he could not draw sense or conclude with reasoning so Baldwin did the only thing he could, he answered with his heart. Silently he asked for forgiveness for what he was about to do.

"STOP!" He roared. The crashing of swords continued, as did the screams and shouts of attack. "STOP!" The King kept yelling until his voice was hoarse-

Without warning rough hands unseated him from his horse and he fell to the moist ground in a crash of heavy armor. Rolling to avoid the following downward swing of a sword of his assailant he found himself atop of a man.

The fallen man might be missing a limb, he might have been gutted but there were only two things that Baldwin registered in that split second. The man wore a brace; he was one of the few he witnessed fighting the day before and that the same man was praying now. His white lips opened and closed to a rhythm of a prayer, his eyes moistened with emotion.

"Get up!" Baldwin ordered, unable to bear his face. "Get-" The barest detection of a flicker behind his ear alerted him-

-A jolted heartbeat threw Baldwin upright-

-An axe swung down with lightening speed missing his forehead by a single breath of air-

A wet _squelch_ reached his ears, swiftly followed by a dull but solid thud of the axe meeting the ground-

-The body beneath him convulsed, spilling thick entrails-

-It continued to twitch almost severed in half by the axe-

Baldwin staggered to his feet screaming murder. Instinct had saved his life but had stolen another…_and another_…_and another_…

He heaved his sword and the sharp edge found itself in the thin space between the helmet and chest plate of the axe carrier with an angry force. The King was on his feet even before the head fell. The axe remained embedded in the body; the headless enemy teetered before slumping to the ground-

Baldwin stared at the two bodies that lay before him; one decapitated and the other gutted. The acrid taste of mockery sprung at him, closing its putrid fingers around his throat and squeezing until it burned. _What have you done?_ The dead demanded. _Under your protection I die at your feet._

His vision turned red, his body swayed with nausea; there were too many, too many fighting and too many dead. For a brief flicker of a second Baldwin could hear nothing but everything that his eyes perceived became intense. He could not hear the brutal _clang_ of swords to blades or the wails of pain but he saw each of his Knights clearly. Separated into individuals they each waged a war of their own but how long could it last? The King shook the ghostly haunting whispers off before the guilt could debilitate him entirely. If he were to achieve anything with his life he would save his men and his Kingdom. He had to stop this. He _will_ stop it.

"HALT!" He bellowed. Hacking his way, carving a path out of flesh. Flesh into flesh; bone into bone. "STOP! STOP! STOP!" Swordsmanship was a fine art but there was no art in killing. With a heavy hand and a heart of stone he sliced and hewed until he reached a burning wagon that now resembled a funeral pyre. On top of the crackling pyre he yelled once more and kicked pieces of burning debris into the crowd until he was heard.

"STOP!"

The battle eased though Baldwin suspected that it was because victory was painfully clear. With a pounding heart he surveyed the scene before him. Of the Crusaders he could no longer see Guy de Lusignan but the rest continued to grapple with the enemies. "I SAID STOP!" He roared once more. The Crusaders heeded at once and began pushing through to the burning pyre where their King stood. They formed a semi circle, swords drawn breathing heavily.

"Bring me your Leader!" Baldwin ordered to the nearest mud-covered barbarian. "The King has words to exchange with him." A ripple of surprise carried through the survivors and any last hand-to-hand struggle ceased.

Godfrey looked up with alarm. "My Lord-" He began with concern, who knew what lawless men would do with the King in their filthy hands? If only he could have reached the King sooner. Too rash was the young sire to reveal his title. Tiberias also entertained similar thoughts, for throughout battle he had desperately tried to wade his way to the King. Unlike the King, the Marshal fully understood that the battle was long done and the blades of a mere few could not sway victory to their side. His duty was to protect the King even if it meant leaving every last villager behind for what use would there be in protecting the people if they lost the King?

"It is the only way." Baldwin said moving his hand in a placating gesture. "If it takes my life to exchange for everyone's then so be it."

Godfrey shook his head in disappointment. He was not a perfect Knight but he believed that a perfect King ruled him. A young idealistic King, who had yet to learn that the ones who won the battle were not the ones to have victory, but the ones who _survived_. Similarly, on a battlefield there were no individuals but merely numbers of expendable soldiers, what counted was which of the leaders lived.

Wary, the Knight tightened his sword hand ready to give his last breath for the perfect King.

The crowd parted, a tall broad man wearing a heavy sword at his side advanced towards Baldwin with a hammer swinging loosely in his hand. "Are you the King?" He asked, his voice booming over the lingering moans.

Baldwin answered with a curt nod.

"Then come, our Chief will speak to you."

"Wait Your Highness!" Tiberias shouted but the large messenger quickly barred his way with the crudely formed hammer.

"The Chief gives his word, the battle will cease until he has spoken to the King." He said in his loud monotone voice. Stopped short, Tiberias retaliated with a sword. Godfrey seized the momentary disruption to mouth a single word to the King.

"_Guy_." Baldwin understood immediately; Guy had escaped. He gave a faint nod. Reinforcements will arrive, until then they will have to take steps, as they became available.

Baldwin reached out and clasped Tiberias by the shoulder. "I shall hold their leader to his word but do what is necessary if I am not successful." He hoped that his Marshal understood his words and for good measure he also sent a significant glance to Godfrey who stood close enough to hear his whispers. "I will return soon." He promised and wordlessly followed the messenger.

Into the dark undergrowth they went. The ground sloped and crunched underfoot. The darkness was encompassing, he could barely make out the broad outline of the man in front who managed walked inhumanly quiet while he clanked and prodded along in his armor.

Sometime during the slaughter Baldwin had discarded his helmet preferring to have full view and now as he ran a hand on his sweat moistened hair he found blood. Another exploratory touch confirmed that it was his own and when he drew his brows together he could feel the skin pull. He dropped his hand as they reached a single lonely tent lit up from within.

The messenger lifted a corner of the stained rough material and the King ducked under. A single lamp burned brightly inside. It sat alongside a thin pile of tatty books and a stringy man perhaps five years his senior.

Baldwin reflexively assessed the physical threat that the man in front of him posed. Standing at full height Baldwin would be perhaps a finger's width taller although the man held considerably less mass than he.

He sported a mane of blonde hair tied loosely by a leather thong and wore heavily stained travel gear and was apparently unarmed. Although unshaven and rough he appeared nothing like the barbarian he had in mind of meeting. He'd imagined a thickset man, with a towering presence or at least a demeanor that coined him a thug with little morals, instead the man who sat leisurely in front of him resembled a run down scholar. Despite appearing painfully thin it that did not overshadow the fact that his arms were tightly muscled.

Baldwin's hand strayed surreptitiously close to his sheathed sword. Too easily had they allowed him to walk in armed, either they were foolishly confidant or there was more at play than meets the eye.

Blue intelligent eyes took in the full length of the King before he stood up from his makeshift bed with a yawn. Baldwin's eyes narrowed, what kind of man can sleep while his men heinously slaughtered just beyond the woods?

In truth Corlet Unwine had been rather surprised when the King stepped in. At first he thought it was a joke or maybe his men and been fooled and brought the wrong man because this person carried nothing of how he'd imagined a King to be. Unwine had spent his whole life on the borders of the Kingdom and knew little of Jerusalem and her King. When was the last throne ascension? He honestly did not know and assumed that the ruler was some fat old man who liked to point and order from the safety of barricaded walls.

What was this boy doing here under the name of the King? With interest he decided to see what would come from this 'King'.

"Your Highness," He greeted. "Never in my unworthy life would I ever imagine meeting royalty and especially here in a battle field." He said and offered a mock bow. "But then royalty means very little to us men."

Baldwin folded his arms across his chest. "This is _no_ battle field and men protect, not prey upon the weak." He corrected.

A nasty smirk fixed itself upon the Chief's face. "Such _honor_." He continued to say, his disdain evident from his ill-disguised sarcasm. "I hardly believe that men like yourself and your dogs…pardon me, the _Crusaders_ live _just_ and _peaceful_ lives, after all men still need to survive. I do not think that we are too different."

Baldwin bristled visibly at the insult to his Knights and from under his dirt blasted and blood encrusted face his eyes burned. "You know nothing of honor."

Unwine spat. No longer was he as dubious to who it was that stood before him. Only a King who thought himself to be above all would place so much value in honor. Give him a week, nay! A _day_ of living in the real world where living could not be taken for granted and he will soon change his mind.

"Only the rich can afford to talk about honor." Unwine said. He moved towards him, stopping less than a foot from the King who resolutely stared ahead completely unfazed. If the skinny ruffian wanted to intimidate him then he had far to go. They stood close enough for Baldwin to smell the mustiness from Unwine's unwashed clothes and for him to smell the coppery blood from his.

"But that isn't what you've come here to discuss is it? So tell me, what are the terms that you propose?" he said at last.

"Let the survivors and the Crusaders go. They have a war to fight on the front. If any part of you has any pride left in your land then you would understand how crucial they are to a victory."

"Pride is best left discarded beside honor." Unwine said, "Especially since your terms are going to be costly."

"What is it that you want?"

"My men and I are simple, we want food, wine and a warm bed to return to each night in a secure home-"

Baldwin's deep laughter filled the tent. The root of this amoral man lay bare; he was nothing more than a common thief with greedy ambitions and a bloody sword. "So nothing that monetary means cannot give you. It can buy the very souls of the wicked." He said darkly.

"I would sell my soul for all its worth." Unwine replied frankly.

"Of that I have no doubt."

"So we have an agreement?"

"Name your price and you shall receive it."

"I warn you now, it will not be a small-."

"If it buys the freedom of my men and the villagers it will be worth it."

Unwine could not believe his ears, in his experience even the richest of men bartered but this boy, this _King_ wasn't even trying. Like many men accustomed to the wiles of people, Unwine was highly suspicious of receiving things too easily surrendered. "I will need your presence here with us until we receive full payment." He said, setting a leverage in his favor.

"Naturally." Baldwin replied his sarcasm so light that it may have been undetected. "But my men and the villagers are to be released."

"Naturally." Unwine echoed with equal grace. "Then we've come to terms. You will come with us and we will leave the people untouched."

Baldwin stared hard at Unwine before offering his answer. He'd always been a sound judge of character and now he was positive that this foul if intellectual character was not to be trusted, but it seemed that he had little choice. "You have my word."

Unwine appeared pleased with reservation. "Who shall I send to retrieve payment?"

Baldwin thought carefully before giving a name. "Godfrey of Ibelin. He is one of my most trusted and he will know what to do."

Whether the King intended it or not Unwine did not like the double tone his words carried. With some thought he spoke. "That is fine, but on the condition that we will contact him when we are ready, until then you ride with us. I do not want to risk unnecessary…exposure. It would not do to release one man and he returns with a thousand."

Unwine was crafty, if he and his men moved it made them hard to track and harder still to pursue with an army. Baldwin did not even bother to grace him with a remark and Unwine left the tent not long after feeling sufficiently satisfied with the outcome.

"Borchat, take two others and guard that tent." He ordered, "Nothing goes in and he certainly does not come out. The _King_ is armed but I doubt he would soil his pricey sword on our blood." He said loudly for his royal audience.

Borchat frowned and growled. He was a life hardened man fast approaching mid-life and his attitude was bitter at the best of times, but his pessimistic and outright cynical forecasts in all events made him an invaluable asset to Unwine. Nothing could ever sweep you into unpleasant surprise if you expected the worst and Borchat was a firm believer of this.

"I wouldn't be so cocky." He said hoarsely voicing his misgivings. "You have not seen him fight."

"I do not think that I need to." Unwine replied carelessly. "Any man can get dirt and blood on himself."

"He fights with passion." Borchat insisted. "You did not see-"

"_Every_ man fights with passion when his life is at the question of a sword's edge."

Under the drying mud, Borchat's heavily lined face sagged with disappointment in what he thought was Unwine's apparent misjudgment in the seriousness of the matter. "Are you so lost in a heady perfume that you have become a senseless fool? We have attacked _Crusaders_ and you have taken the _King_ for ransom! Death bears our very names!"

Unwine pretended that he hadn't heard Borchat's warning and bent to tie a loosened lace on his boot. A man like Borchat did not understand; _could_ not understand. He didn't have family, he didn't know what it was like to watch them starve and die one by one. In this life only the strong lived and he intended to be strong so that those he loved may survive. He did not choose who died under his sword but if it saved those he loved then it did not matter in the least.

He stood swiftly. "He can keep my name." He threw back and stalked away.

Borchat fell back watching him go. There was no question in his loyalty but doubts hung too strongly this time. "Do not lead us to our deaths." He said aloud and shivered with what felt like old age in his bones.

---

**A/N**: Dear all, sorry for the gap in updates. I would just like to thank you all for reading this story and reviewing!


	4. Let It Hurt

**LET IT HURT**

Baldwin heard little outside of the guarded tent for he was too preoccupied by his own thoughts. He worried for his Knights and he fretted over the survivors.

Impatient, he paced until a young lad with gnarly fingers and bandy legs told him he was to leave the tent. The lad, growing sparse bristles for a first beard gaped at the King with open curiosity. Baldwin ignored him and took the horse offered. He mounted noting that the animal was docile and rather reluctant to move. This he decided was a deliberate decision on Unwine's behalf as they might as well have given him a mule to ride since he would be out-riding no one on this sluggish animal.

The sun was well on her way into the sky when the Baldwin was ushered along the dirt road, his horse needing tidbits of food to entice him along. Men in all directions surrounded him making it clear that he may be a King but he was still a prisoner. In the light of day he made a clear count of three dozen of men. It was a number that he alone could not win but would be insignificant upon the arrival of reinforcements. Like the lad they cast him curious stares, some appeared amazed at their fortune and others alert and wary of playing with a royal fire.

For a while Baldwin rode his horse calmly but then he saw a thin row of ragged village boys dragged along behind. He cursed for not having seen them earlier and turned his horse around to face Unwine who rode not ten feet from him. "You said you would leave the people untouched!"

Unwine smiled but it looked more like a sneer. "And untouched they will be. I am lacking of some men since you've disposed of them. I will need their labor to set up camp and after they shall be returned."

He had more than enough hands to make camp, no the boys were there as a further guarantee to Baldwin's compliance. The King wordlessly fumed mentally making a count of the boys and vowing to see to it that every single one would return until he spotted a familiar dark head. "And the woman?" he demanded.

The older man looked over at Alexia with disinterest. "I don't know how she got among the boys." Baldwin would sooner swallow his tongue than to believe the savage.

"How she got there does not matter. She is my maid, I want her returned to the village this instant."

"Certainly Your Highness." Unwine slurred with fake compliance. "But we have come far already and even if I could spare a man to send her back I cannot guarantee her safety when alone with a deprived man."

Baldwin summoned all his royal haughtiness. "Well if you cannot guarantee such a small matter then untie her and she shall ride with me. It is an insult that she should be taken for labor. An upset King does not like to make generous offers."

Unwine seemed to consider. If he treated the King well then they might just fetch a more handsome ransom. "As you wish." He shouted out and she was released.

Alexia didn't need to be told twice and she hurried over to Baldwin's horse wide eyed and coursing with tremors though whether it was from fear of fatigue he could not tell. He leaned over as inconspicuously as he could. "Are you hurt?" She shook her head mutely. "That is good, can you ride?" He asked to which she answered to with a nod. "Then up, upon my horse." He held out his hand.

Alexia hesitated before shaking her head.

"I cannot."

Baldwin looked at her with mild surprise. At times like this surely propriety was the last thing on her mind?

She cast a scared glance over her shoulder before whispering faintly. "If need be, your horse can run faster with just one rider."

She looked scared, he could see her struggling to fight the fear that gripped her yet here she was prepared to offer him the best chance of escaping without her. It touched him, her bravery was reminiscent of his Crusaders and it offered him strength. For all his calm façade he knew very well that he was more vulnerable than he allowed any to see and he needed to be strong for his Kingdom needed him still. "I will be going nowhere unless we all go." Baldwin reassured. This promise he intended to keep-

A whip cracked loudly, disturbing the still air and snapping Baldwin to attention. The line of boys scattered in a unexpected chorus of cries.

A heavy limbed man towered over a boy who lay on the ground clutching his arm and whimpering. "Move you useless piece of meat!" The man was shouting.

"Lay one more whip on that boy and I will see to it that your face will receive the next lash!" Baldwin bellowed furiously. Feeling his master's anger, his horse grunted and arched causing Baldwin to pull the reigns tightly to bring the beast back into a stand still.

Furious he turned to Unwine. "You swore by your honor that you would not lay a hand on a single boy!"

Unwine didn't even flinch. "Honor is worth very little out here. You may find that water and food are worth more." He paused dramatically to enjoy the King's temporary loss of words before spurring his horse forward. "MAKE CAMP! Get the prisoners working!" With a final smug glance he cantered on. Alexia looked away from the King, unnerved by the anger burning in his eyes. A muscle in his jaw twitched at the familiar movement that he caught out of the corner of his eye. A hand lifting a whip-

Without a word he swung himself off from the saddle and strode over to the line of prisoners with his hand balled into a fist. His arm pulled back and then flew in a wide arc straight into the face of the whip carrier. The man fell immediately, his face turned into a bloody pulp by a broken nose. Baldwin grabbed him by his dirty collar and gave him a rough shake. "Your leader may not abide by his words but _I do_." He released the man and stepped away, glad to be away from his foul breath.

A circle of men had gathered but none moved to aid their comrade. From afar, Unwine watched half amused. As many of his men he was surprised. The pretty boy did more than talk after all. A small part of Unwine began to hate the King for foolishly believing that honor truly existed; if honor could save them then he would hold it close to his heart too.

Couf spat blood laughing gruffly as he did. "If a brawl is what you wanted you should have said-" He growled to the King in his hand he held the whip still and he wondered whether Royal flesh split as easily as it did on a peasant under the cruel leather.

"No-" Alexia watched in horror as the downed man got to his feet and spat blood out again. Spittle continued to drip from his mouth and mingle with blood gushing from his nose. It was terrible to watch. The ring of spectators tightened and the brawl began. The King who stood so proud and tall with fair skin stood in the path of a tanned, savagely coarse man; it was like throwing delicate glass against hardened iron slag. She closed her eyes as the first punch was thrown.

A rough voice disturbed Unwine from the scuffle. "I know what you see when you look at him."

"Oh? Is that so?" He replied airily. "Borchat, should it worry me that you think that you know me so well?"

"You see what you once was."

"Now if I was once a King I think we wouldn't be having this conversation now would we?" Unwine began in a somewhat patronizing manner.

"No, you have nothing that will make you a good King."

"I think no man has." He said with good nature at Borchat's insult.

"We all had ideals once." Borchat said as a way pointing out what it was about that King that irked Unwine so. "He just holds onto his a little harder than we did."

"Then I must see to it that he loses his hold soon then won't I?"

"Does it bother you so much?"

"What _bothers_ me is your voice, Borchat. Do not question me again."

"As you wish." Borchat said and went to break the fight up. "Out of my way!" He shoved men aside. "Couf, if you don't let up we won't have no King left to ransom!" He shouted. Couf, now suffered a missing tooth and a broken nose. Baldwin had opened up his head wound and one side of his face was turning purple.

"I said let up! You're falling to pieces!" Borchat shouted and kicked in like a Father breaking up two brothers.

"He'd be falling to pieces too if he'd grown into a man by gnarling root ends!" Couf shouted kicking out.

Borchat once more worked himself between the two. "Let up Couf or I'll have your hide in the sun!"

Couf struggled a while longer before he let up. Baldwin untangled himself from the dirty man and stepped back.

"This isn't finished until I break his pretty face!" Couf threatened wiping a blackened across his mouth.

Borchat ignored him. "You won't have a face unless you get moving." He snarled. "Get to work!" Couf looked murderous but Borchat had authority and the last person who disobeyed him was dealt with an axe to the head. Couf stalked away mouthing profanities as he spat out more blood. This was not the end.

Baldwin watched him go with the same thought. "My Lord!" Alexia was there pulling him away but there was nowhere to go for every pair of eyes guarded them like poisonous serpents ready to strike. But for now none did strike, not before their demands were met and the King was left with the slave.

Together they stood in silence, the King breathing hard until tension released him. Alexia wondered that he was still alive at all. She had seen men fight to the death for lesser reasons but never had she expected to see a Lord let alone the King grapple with an outlaw. It shocked and scared her for she knew that her life would end as soon as he took his last breath. Neither she nor the boys would ever see home again. She feared for their lives, she feared for her life and it pained her that it should depend a man who would so willing forget that his life was precious. A mixture of despair and sorrow clotted against her heart and every last fiber of her body to control it. Everything happened for a reason. She had to have Faith and believe that this is her path. Faith was all she had now to strengthen her soul.

Light rapidly fled as time slipped onto the darker side of twilight. "Your head is cut, My Lord." In the dimness Baldwin could see Alexia squinting at his hairline. "I could clean it for you." She added, her gaze automatically dropping to his dirt-covered face and then to her grimy hands. Water, she needed clean water, there was no logic in cleaning a wound with more dirt. Her attention drifted from their immediate surroundings, her ears perking to the faint tinkle of running water nearby.

"I will fetch a skin of water." She said reaching to take the thick-skinned bottle from the horse's saddle.

Baldwin stopped her. "There is no need."

"But your cut needs to be cleaned."

His hand jumped uneasily to his hairline, the skin around it was tight and crusted with dried blood.

Alexia watched him openly. Every worker, every soldier and even every child knew that wounds could rapidly rot if not cleaned. The King struck her as a sensible man and even if he did not know this, surely it was uncomfortable? Her eyes fell upon the hand he was using to explore the cut; his long fingers were worked into his hair as if to _deliberately_ irritate the clotted blood. "Does it hurt, My Lord?" She asked suddenly understanding a little. Why he welcomed a brawl, why he welcomed the pain…

"Let it hurt." He answered vaguely, his hand falling back to his lap. "It reminds me that I live still."

These were not words she expected from a King and Alexia was taken aback by the complete sadness that he uttered them with. "You needn't rely on pain to remind you still live. Such tasks are better left to the more pleasant things in life."

Baldwin blinked; taking in the sense that her words gently delivered. Plain were her words but profound was the meaning that reached his ears. She spoke of pleasant things; Baldwin recalled a field where the grass grew lush and flowers blossomed for the sun; exotic tales and songs filled the air. It might have been a dream but it was _his_ dream and one day he knew that he would see it.

His fleeting daydream passed as soon as it arrived and thoughts with a more substantial weight began to occupy his mind. To die here in this desolate hell from a mere cut was unfitting. He still had a war to go to, a battle to win with the Crusaders by his side. Death would not so easily find his soul up for the taking, not while duty still beckoned to him.

"It will do you no good to let it fester." He heard Alexia say to which responded to with a nod.

"No good will come of it." He agreed. "But first, tell me what lies ahead? I am not familiar with this land." He first needed to know his grounds in order to decide how best to deal with his predicament.

It seemed to Alexia that the window into the King's brief emotional reflection was closed and the man that sat before her was once again dressed in armor as hard as stone. In response she too withdrew behind her own personal walls. She squinted into the distance thinking hard to recall the geography of the land. "A river cuts the hills, a fishing community lies to its east and un-owned land to the west."

He nodded thoughtfully. Godfrey would be well on his way

"And what do you see My Lord? What lies ahead?" she returned although her question held an entirely different connotation altogether.

Baldwin's lips pressed into a thin line. "Death, pain, sacrifice…and all the other physical or mental scars alike that is to be expected of war." He answered his eyes following the distant horizon as if he were reading the future.

Alexia fell back into an uneasy silence. She felt oddly detached from her body, as if somehow she had become a spectator of herself. It was peculiar, odd, disconcerting and most of all _frightening_. With a dead certainty she knew she would never return to the village that she had called home in the last few years. She was thrown forwards, picked up by a violent wave and she was at the mercy of forces that tossed and buffeted her headfirst into the mysterious unknown that was her sea.

The King had termed it 'war'. A little word that encompassed so much and much more than she knew she was capable of understanding, all her life her world had been the villages that she and her father traveled to and fro from; once they moved onto a new one the old ceased to exist. Lord Baldwin's words hinted at a grander scale that she had never experienced and now she doubted if she wanted the experience.


End file.
